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“What does it taste like?”
“It’s good, but I’ve eaten so many, I’m sick of them.” Lucia peeled the fruit, revealed its bright magenta flesh, and handed it to him.
“It’s such a pretty color!” Dante turned the prickly pear this way and that, and Lucia smiled to see him so delighted. She liked seeing things through his eyes, as if they were new again.
Dante bit into the fruit and the juice slipped down his chin, so he wiped it away with his hand, chuckling. “Oh my, this is delicious. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet and juicy. I can’t believe all the things you know about.”
Lucia chuckled. “Dante, everybody knows about prickly pear. You just haven’t been outside.”
“But you know everything, all the things you tell me, all about flowers and the trees, and how you lived all over.” Dante smiled at her, his lips slick with juice, and through his messy hair she could see the warmth in his gaze, and something she saw every time he looked at her, as if his eyes shone, just for her.
“Dante, why do you look at me that way?”
“What way?”
“I don’t know, I can’t describe it.” Lucia didn’t know how to be anything but direct. “How do you feel, when you look at me?”
Dante smiled. “Amazed.”
“You’re saying that because I just taught you that word.” Lucia smiled back. Whenever Dante learned a new word, he used it constantly.
“No, you’re amazing. You know so much. You’re beautiful.”
Lucia’s throat caught at the notion. The world’s gaze made her feel terrible, but when Dante looked at her, she felt beautiful. Her mother used to say she was beautiful, but Dante made herfeelthat way. He even made her feeldesired, a feeling she hadn’t even known existed.
And it thrilled her.
That night, after they hadtalked themselves drowsy, Dante leaned back against the wall, but Lucia started to move toward him in the darkness, without saying anything.
Dante pressed himself back against the wall and pulled in his legs. His chain clinked as it dragged across the floor.
“Lucia, what are you doing?”
“It’s okay,” Lucia said softly, but she stopped, kneeling in a square of moonlight coming through the window. The bars cast shadowy lines across her white hair and face.
“Don’t come close to me.”
“Tell yourself it’s okay, Dante. It’s just me. You know me. We know everything about one another.”
“Still, don’t.” Dante clenched his teeth. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to see your face.”
“See it from there. Don’t come closer.”
“I can’t, your hair covers too much.” Lucia reached out to touch his hair, but Dante raised his hand reflexively.
“Please don’t.” Dante felt fury rumble inside him, like hunger growling to be fed. He feared he would bite her, harm her, kill her. “You don’t know me.”
“Yes, I do. We’ve talked about everything.”
“We don’t touch.”
“Just relax.” Lucia moved his hair from his face and smoothed it back.
Dante flinched, barely able to hold still. He’d never been touched so gently.
“I want to see your face. I want to know what you look like.” Lucia stroked his hair and tucked it behind his ear. “Tell me what I look like.”
